Starlight
by streco
Summary: [FiyeroElphaba] One night, still running, Fiyero and Elphie have a useless talk about absolutely everything and nothing... at the same time. [Useless fluff first Wicked fic, be nice!] Ooh, swearing!


1_Starlight_

**A/N:** Ohmygoshness!

-sheepish- Hey. So, I don't know where this idea came from, but... well, it just kind of hit me, and I thought it'd be cute. I've never written Wicked FanFiction; mostly just RENT, so this is gonna be new territory... don't throw things?

And... yeah, I really don't know what this is about. I just made... Fiyero an idiot, and I made Elphaba... not so much of an idiot. XD

Spoilers, btw... I don't know if I have to put that in here or not. XD Oh, and language alert. I know that Fiyero doesn't swear in the show... but he does now.

— —

If you wanted the truth, Elphaba had no idea how long they'd been running. Or in what direction, either. The one thing she constantly reminded herself, however, was, _why didn't I bring my freaking broom?_

Not like she would've been able to coax Fiyero on it anyway. He'd probably stare at it and ask what she wanted him to do with it, like sweep the leaves away from the patch of dirt they'd be staying on that night. When she'd suggest riding it, he'd laugh nervously and instantly back away, thinking she wanted him dead.

The moment they found the area of bare forest, right over a steep hill and underneath the starlight, she collapsed into a heap on the damp grass, her glasses going askew and her braid flopping over her shoulder. She sighed and eyed the sharp drop, figuring that during the night sometime, she'd end up rolling and fall right down the hill to her death.

That would certainly put a damper on her life, she decided, and slid a few feet back, away from the hill.

Fiyero, who had just emerged from the woods, fell next to her as well, his straw poofing out. "Y'know," he began, looking at her with a playful smile, "you couldn't change me into anything _convenient, _could you've? Like, maybe a crash dummy, or even a _tin _man, like you did Boq. No. You had to turn me into a _scarecrow_. Do you know how many birds have tried to nest on me?"

"None, because of your bad attitude," Elphaba retorted.

"Oh, okay, maybe I'm making the _straw _go sour!"

"Well _I'm sorry!_" Elphaba shouted back, rocketing up into a sitting position. It was odd, she found it, that she'd just gone from green zone all the way up to red with him in a matter of seconds. "Would you rather be _dead _right now?"

He stopped speaking and sighed, running his yellow hand over her hair, taking out her tangled braid. "I'm sorry," he apologized, and sighed. "It's just... a lot to get used to."

"Yeah, that was like... oh, maybe the first nineteen years of my life."

"But you're nineteen," Fiyero pointed out.

"Well spotted."

Angry, Fiyero growled a bit. "Elphaba—"

Elphaba giggled, and tried to cover it up.

"What?"

She shook her head, so many thoughts running through her mind, like how much she loved him, how much she needed him, and how much she didn't care that he was made out of the material one of the Three Little Pigs built a house out of. She was sure that nobody would try to make a house out of him, because she'd shove her broomstick up their ass if they did.

...if she _had _her broomstick.

"What?!" he questioned again, fixing his shirt and hat. "Why are you laughing?"

Then she smiled again, shaking her head, her free hair going wild. "Did... did you just... _growl?_"

Thinking for a moment, Fiyero nodded. "Why, yes, in fact, I did. Why? Does this entertain you?" He bared his teeth and growled again, and then laughed.

Elphaba broke out into ferocious hysterics, rolling over and leaning against him, her beautifully leafy shaded skin, clashing wonderfully with the rough texture and golden color of his... straw. No matter what she looked like, how couldn't she love him? He was charming, and quite a handsome scarecrow. And he growled like a cutie.

"The nights when the stars outnumber our troubles," Fiyero sighed, and leaned against a rock next to Elphaba.

She paused, taking a moment to recite this line again in her mind. "Did you just say—"

"I did just say," he cut her off, turning to the right quickly and pressing his lips to hers. It was rough, she discovered, the feel of his lips on hers, but she didn't care. She slid her arms around his neck and giggled, pulling away.

"Somebody has the giggles," Fiyero noted. "Oh, c'mon, _Elphie_, what's so funny?"

Instantly, Elphaba stopped laughing. "Glinda..."

"Did she seriously change her name?" Fiyero asked, sitting up to sit on his butt. "Like, c'mon. Honestly. I thought it was one of those things where it only happens on those dramatic soap operas. 'Oh!'" he crossed his left arm over his eyes, "'He referred to me as Glinda, therefore I shall white-out the _a_ from my name!'" He collapsed in a melodramatic heap, sticking his tongue out awkwardly.

Elphaba stared at him and then shook her head. "Wow."

"Wow... as in... 'Wow! I love that haystack more than I love my floofy hair!' Or 'Wow' as in, 'Ew, I'm in love with a loser.'"

"The second one."

"You love your floofy hair more than you love meeeeee?"

A pause.

"Yes."

Though she was withholding her giggles with extreme difficulty, she craned her head over to look at Fiyero, who was making the best puppy dog eyes she'd ever seen in her entire life. Unable to hold her composure, she burst into hysterics, rolling over on top of her straw prince. He laughed and brushed her hair away, and when she finally quieted down, the air was calm with the breeze, so calm that Elphie could just fall asleep lying next to her—

"Hey, do you think we could still fuck?"

She laughed again.

"No. I'm serious."

Harder laughing.

"Well... I guess we're about to find out."

Elphie laughed harder, but when she looked over, Fiyero's face was serious.

"...oh."

**A/N:** USELESS FLUFF EQUALS HOORAY! And terrible endings does too!

Um... first and most likely last Wicked fic... ever. Three fandoms is a lot for me to juggle.

Review?

–Steph.


End file.
